


Teach Me

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 13:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12212133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Jackson and April are in their happy marriage bubble and caught up in each other just as they should be. But there's still so much that April has to learn - in one department specifically. And there's no better teacher than her husband.





	Teach Me

**Author's Note:**

> the first of my many requested one-shots! enjoy :)

It’s different, coming home to Jackson as my husband. 

I’m very used to coming home to him in general. We’ve been roommates for almost the entire time I’ve lived in Seattle, but that was different. We were platonic. Even living together as best friends was nowhere close to living together as spouses. 

He’s my husband. The word is still fresh in my mouth, and I say it any chance I get. It tastes sweet and rolls off my tongue. I hope I never get used to it.

The house smells like flowers when I first walk through the door, and I’m curious as to why when I set my shoes and bag down in the entryway. I come around the corner and find the culprit - there’s a bouquet of calla lilies and roses sitting in a pretty vase on the counter.

“Oh, my…” I gasp, and walk over to them. I touch their soft petals and press my nose in, smelling their sweet scent. I pick up the little note buried in the colors and see that in Jackson’s block handwriting, it reads simply:  _ for my beautiful wife, just because _ . 

My heart swells. I’m still getting used to the way he loves me.

“Baby?” I call, realizing the silence in the house for the first time. He must be here, but I don’t know where. I don’t get an answer in return. 

I skim my fingertips along the countertop and make my way out of the kitchen, towards the living room. I peek my head in and smile when I see Jackson on the couch, still dressed in his work clothes, fast asleep.

My smile grows as I approach him. He’s the cutest when he’s sleeping, so soft and unaware, with his guard all the way down. I’m lucky that I’m the only one who gets to see him like this. At work he’s so different, all business, stern and focused. At home, he’s my husband. 

I sit down gently, careful not to wake him yet. I smile down at his face and can tell he’s not deeply asleep, so I situate his shoulders and pull his head to rest on my thighs instead of the throw pillow he’d been using. The weight is comforting and substantial, and the movement wakes him but he doesn’t open his eyes. 

I rest my arm on his chest and stroke his cheekbone with my thumb, still admiring his features as I look down at him. When he opens his eyes, they’re still bleary with sleep, and my smile grows. 

“Hi, honey,” I say. 

“Hey,” he says, closing his eyes again as the corners of his lips pull up. “Hey, beautiful.” 

I giggle softly. I always do when he calls me that. 

He puckers his lips, asking for a kiss without words, and I bend at the waist to give him a chaste one. When I pull away, he puckers again, so I give in once more. 

“You taste good,” he says, licking his lips. “Were you eating chocolate?” 

I rub his chest slowly with one hand, using the other to pet back his short-cropped hair. “In the car,” I say. “I found some in the cupholder.” 

He makes a pouty sound. “Share,” he says. 

“It’s gone,” I say. “I ate it all.” 

He puckers his lips for a third time, so I give him a third kiss. He opens his eyes and reaches up to run his hand down my arm, then keeps a hold on my wrist. 

“Thank you for the flowers,” I say, framing his face and tracing one eyebrow with my thumb. “They’re so pretty.” 

“Pretty flowers for my pretty wife,” he says, and I feel like I could melt into a puddle right here. His words do crazy things to me. “I have something else for you, too.” 

“Jackson, you didn’t have to,” I say. “What’s the occasion? I didn’t get anything for you. You’re making me look bad.” 

“Shush,” he says. “This is for me, too.” 

“Did you get a puppy?” I ask. “Because you know we’re both gone way too much to take care of a dog. I know I told you I grew up with a lot of animals, but that doesn’t mean that you had to go out and-” 

“April,” he says. “There’s no puppy.” 

“Oh,” I say. “Well, what is it then?” 

“I’d show you, but I don’t wanna get up,” he says, reaching up and touching my chin. “You’re too pretty.” 

I blush. “You’re being sappy,” I say. 

“And?” he says. “I’m married to you. I’m allowed to make you blush with whatever sweet things I say.” 

I direct my eyes towards the ceiling and rest my head back on the couch. “You’re too much,” I say. 

“Just enough,” he says, sitting up. I miss the weight of his head on my lap once he moves. He stands in front of me, saying, “I know this is a little out-there. But just trust me… okay? Do you trust me?” 

“Yes…” I say, eyeing him.

“Okay,” he says. “Also, this wasn’t all my idea. You should know that. I had help. It was something Arizona suggested, because we’re newly married and all that stuff and she agreed that it would be great for you. For us. Definitely, for both of us. I wasn’t sure at first, but then I really, really couldn’t resist, and-”

“Jackson,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “You’re babbling.” 

“Right,” he says. “Let me just go get it. Wait here.” 

I stay sitting on the couch as he hurries into the other room, and I wonder what he could be up to. I hear the sound of him rustling around, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. 

“Ouch, dammit,” he says, under his breath. I giggle. “Close your eyes!” he calls. I do. “Are they closed?”

“Yes,” I say, and fold my hands in my lap as I hear his footsteps get closer. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is right in front of me. 

“What did you drop?” I ask. 

“Stupid suitcase fell on me,” he says. “I put this on a high shelf. Anyway, are you ready? Hold out your hands.” 

I have no clue what he’s about to present me with, but I hold out my hands anyway. He hands me something light and square that fits between both palms, and I open my eyes.

It’s a shopping bag. A fancy one, at that. And it says ‘La Perla’ on the side.

I crinkle my forehead. “La Perla?” I ask. “What’s that?” 

His face is a mixture of nerves and excitement. He can barely contain himself. “Look inside,” he says. 

I shoot him a look while pushing back the tissue paper, then gasp as I see what’s inside. “Oh, Jackson,” I say, still staring. 

Inside are two unbelievably tiny undergarments - both white. Both lacy. Both  _ miniscule.  _

“Lingerie?” I say, incredulously. “I… I… I don’t know what to say.” I look up and meet his eyes and see that he’s chewing on his lower lip, wondering how I’ll react. Truth is, I don’t know how to react. The thought of wearing lingerie has never so much as crossed my mind, so I have no idea what to do now that it’s literally in my lap. 

“Pull it out,” he says. “Look at it.” 

Tentatively, I do. It’s just a bra and panty set - the bra has thin straps and pretty, detailed lace on the cups and below, and around the sides. The underwear are low-rise, will barely cover anything, with a little ruffled skirt encircling the hips. 

I have to admit, it’s classier than what I always imagined lingerie was. I always pictured it as red and brassy with thigh-high boots. This is different. Jackson definitely knew who he was buying for. 

“It’s pretty,” I admit. 

His eyes are heavy on me. “Will you wear it?” he asks. 

I look up at him self-consciously. A small gust of air escapes me when I say, “You don’t wanna see me in this.”

“Are you crazy?” he says. “Why do you think I bought it for you?” 

“You shouldn’t have,” I say. “It was probably so expensive, and-and… I’m just not sexy, Jackson. I know that. I’m cute, I can be pretty sometimes. But sexy?” I laugh sardonically at myself. “No. No. Not sexy.” 

He makes an incredulous sound. “You are so wrong,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I say, running my hand through my hair and fluffing the curls. “I know what I am and what I’m not. And I’m-” 

“Delusional, apparently,” he says. “Look, baby. I know you’re not the most confident person in the world. I don’t know why, because you’re the fuckin’... best at everything you do, you’re beautiful, you have an amazing body… I literally have a boner just thinking about you in this.”

I snort. “Jackson.”

“I’m not gonna force you,” he says. “I would never do that. I just want you to feel hot. Arizona was telling me how it’s kinda like a confidence-booster. She said you might be cautious about it at first, but that you’d feel good when you put it on.” 

I look down at the skimpy garments again. “All you’re gonna do is rip it off,” I say. “I don’t get the point.” 

“The point is for you,” he says. “To feel the way I see you. I want you to feel it. I want you to know how sexy you are.” 

My body buzzes in response to his words. I’m caving. He might not realize it yet, but I am.

“I don’t even know how to wear it,” I say. “I don’t even know… I don’t know about anything like that. Sexually. I don’t. I just don’t.”

“I’ll teach you,” he says, his voice smooth like butter. “Everything I know, you’ll know too. And we have so much time.”

We lock eyes and I know I’m going to do it. There’s nearly nothing I wouldn’t do for him. 

But he’s right, this is for me, too. 

“Okay,” I say. “Teach me.” 

My hands tremble as I take my clothes off and put the new ones on. Jackson is waiting while pretending to be casual in the bedroom, probably undressing himself. The bra and underwear fit nicely - he’s always been good at guessing my size - but I’m afraid to look at myself in the mirror once they’re on. 

But I force myself. I stand in front of the full-length mirror with my eyes closed and take in a deep breath, then open my eyes to look at my reflection. 

I barely recognize myself. In a good way. The bra doesn’t have any padding, but the way it’s shaped accentuates my chest perfectly to make me look sexy without being trashy. It’s a subtle, demure brand of sexy, and I never thought I would like it so much. I let my eyes trail down to the underwear and the tiny skirt, which is a sweet little detail. I turn to the side and see more of my butt than I usually do in underwear, and that makes me nervous. I’ve never been the curviest girl with the greatest butt, so I’m not sure what I’m showing off here. I flip the skirt up and check myself out, frowning at it. It’s not much, at least to me. But I know Jackson will like it. He’s always grabbing me there. 

“I’m coming out,” I say, one hand resting flat on the door. 

“I’m ready,” I hear, and turn the knob. 

My insides are jumping as I appear in the doorway and see Jackson waiting on the end of the bed. I force my eyes up from the floor to look at him, and see that he’s staring at me like I’m the sun. Like he’s never seen anything more radiant. 

“Shit, April,” he breathes, eyes trailing up and down my body. 

“Is it good?” I ask, skimming my hands down my stomach. “Is it fine?” 

“It’s a whole lot better than fine,” he says. “I’ve never made a better purchase in my life. Ever.” 

My face flushes and I don’t know where to put my arms. I end up with one straight down at my side and the other reaching across to grab my elbow, just standing there in the middle of the room. 

“Get over here, babe,” he says. “I need to touch you.” 

I let out a breathy laugh and walk slowly over to him, feeling him drink in the sight of me. He’s shirtless at this point, dressed only in a pair of black boxer-briefs that I love. And he knows I love them. 

I stand between his parted knees and he braces his hands on my waist. I rest mine on his shoulders, watching him with bated breath and wondering what step to take next. I’m so new at this, and nothing comes naturally yet. I get too lost in my own head. I can’t do anything organically without thinking about it too hard first.

“You are…” he breathes, leaning forward to press slow kisses to my ribcage. “So damn sexy.”

His hands sneak lower to grab two generous handfuls of my ass as he yanks me closer. He keeps his grip where it is, skimming up and down the round of my butt as his fingers sneak beneath the tiny little skirt. When he slides his hands roughly up my back, the skirt flips up and he presses his lips to the middle of my chest.

All I can do is watch him. My heart is hammering hard and I’m so turned on, but I don’t know what moves to make. We’ve had plenty of sex, but this is different. I don’t know why, but it is. I still have so much to learn. 

Through his eyelashes, he looks up at me and lifts a hand to palm my breast. He runs his thumb over my nipple, hardening it to a peak through the thin lace of the bra, and presses sporadic kisses to my stomach as he does. 

I let out a shaky breath, tilting my hips forward as he keeps one arm wrapped around them. “Why do…” I begin, trailing off as I try to collect my thoughts. “Why do you like boobs so much?” I ask.

He pulls me down onto his lap, one knee on either side of his hips as he stays sitting up. Now, my chest is at his face-level, and he turns it to the side to gently press his lips to the swell of my breast showing above the cup. 

“All men do,” he says, hands spanning almost the entire area of my back. He pulls me forward, arching it, and my stomach presses against his. “I just love yours.” 

“But why?” I breathe. 

He chuckles, low in his throat. “I guess I never really thought about it,” he says, lips moving against my skin. “Because they’re soft, they taste like you, and it really turns you on when I put them in my mouth.” 

My core lights up as a shaky breath escapes me. I let my eyes close as my hands rest on the tops of his shoulders, and he kisses his way up my chest until his lips are on my collarbone where he takes small sections of my skin between his teeth. I grip him tighter when he moves to my throat, where he licks a defined path all the way to my chin. 

I moan and he smiles, tightening his arms around me. “You like that, baby?” he says, voice husky.

I nod. “Yes,” I breathe, fingers ghosting over the nape of his neck. “Jackson, teach me,” I say, head still tilted back. “Teach me how to feel good.” 

Moments later, he walks me to the wall of our bedroom and presses my back against it. His eyes tell me he has a plan, but I have no idea what it is.

“Remember the first time I went down on you?” he murmurs, hands tracing the indents of my sides under my ribs. 

It’s impossible to forget. It happened on the night of our first time; I hadn’t even known what oral sex entailed until he showed me. I had no idea what his mouth was capable of. He made me feel things I never knew my body could. I barely knew how to handle those feelings - my hips had lifted from the bed as he held them and kept working, kept at me until I was a shaking, whimpering mess before him. 

“Yes,” I say softly. 

“How hot you were… how hard you came…” 

I blush. He may be my husband, but the way he talks in the bedroom is something I still need to get used to. I’m not used to hearing these things said aloud. I need to shake the shame I feel when it turns me on. 

“Uh-huh,” I say shakily, feeling his hands trail lower to situate around the waistband of the frilly white underwear. “I remember.” 

“And how about the first time you went down on me?” he continues, hooking his thumbs inside the waist.

I screw up my face, jolted out of the trance I was in. “Unfortunate,” I mutter, still embarrassed even though it was a long time ago.

It’s not difficult for me to get Jackson hard, so that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I kept choking on his impressive size and gagging, which was very unsexy. And after he came, I spit. It was truly awful. 

“No,” he says. “It was hot.”

“Mine and your version of hot must be pretty different,” I say. 

He lowers to his knees. “Shhh,” he says, and starts pulling the underwear down. 

“What are you doing?” I ask. I’m still standing up against the wall. It feels strange not to be on the bed, where all of this usually happens. 

“Eating you out,” he says, pushing the underwear further. 

“Here?” I ask, voice rising in pitch. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. I nod. “It’s gonna feel good. I promise.” 

I try and relax, leaning the backs of my shoulders against the wall and tipping my pelvis forward. Jackson smirks up at me and firmly grips my ass, then brings my center closer to his face with one deft pull. He opens his mouth and gently drags his tongue over my outer lips, which makes me lose my breath. This hasn’t become routine yet, and I don’t know if it ever will. 

I need to find a place for my hands, so I hold tightly to his head. He nudges my thighs apart slightly and opens his mouth wider, grazing a spot that makes me take in a sharp gust of breath. 

“There we go,” he murmurs, squeezing my ass. He goes back to that same spot and centers his attention on it, which makes my jaw clench and my eyelashes flutter like crazy, I can’t help but tighten my thighs together even though he had just separated them. 

I moan his name, which I know he loves. I bite my lower lip and feel his mouth work slowly and deliberately over the most sensitive part of my body, and I surrender completely to him. At this point, he’s more familiar with what’s between my thighs than I am. 

“Oh, Jackson,” I whimper softly, as his tongue starts to move faster. 

I can’t catch my breath. I push him away by the forehead for a reprieve, and hear him chuckling darkly as he presses kisses to the front of my hipbones. I keep my hands by his ears, pulling him back only once the pulse between my legs settles, and he strokes my skin with his thumb before pushing his index and ring finger inside of me. 

“Oh, god,” I exclaim, letting my shoulders cave towards each other as I lean forward. As he pumps his hand, he kisses my lower belly slowly and deliberately, his free hand trailing down the back of my thigh.

When my fingers dig into the sides of his neck, he takes his hand away and reconnects his mouth to me. I pull him closer, keeping my grip on the back of his skull, and he moves with passion as I come dangerously close to the edge. 

My legs are quivering; I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself up. I’m concentrating on too many other feelings to continue to stand. Jackson must feel my trembling knees because he guides me to the edge of the bed, where he’d been sitting, and puts me in his place. 

Knelt between my parted knees, he finishes what he started. He keeps both hands at my hip creases, thumbs leading inwards towards my pelvic bones, and goes down on me in the place where I did the same for him just last night. Our roles are reversed, and for some reason that makes me really hot. 

I fall onto my back and spread my legs wider, and he holds my waist as I start to come. The sounds coming from me aren’t even close to sounding like words; I can’t even understand what I’m saying. I’m just desperate - desperate for this feeling, desperate for it to never end. A tight coil placed in the pit of my stomach comes unwound and springs free, and my body moves without control in response. 

As I recover, Jackson presses sweet kisses to the front of my thighs and kneecaps, and I throw my arms to rest above my head. Now that it’s over, my core is throbbing for an entirely different reason - I’m sated, at least for the moment. 

“God, Jackson,” I say, stomach rising and falling dramatically as I try to catch my breath. I reach up and cover my face with my hands and let out a long stream of air from my puckered lips. I’m trying to get back to center, remember that I’m a person instead of just a gathering of pulsating body parts .

He chuckles softly, still running his hands up my thighs to rest them on my belly which growls right on cue. “You hungry?” he murmurs. 

I nod slightly, reaching to skim my palm over his head. “You?” I ask. 

He shakes his head, pressing an errant kiss right below my bellybutton. “I already ate,” he says suggestively. 

I blush and roll my eyes, then sit up. I quickly find soft shorts and a t-shirt to put on, then wrap my arms around his waist when he stands. “Let’s go have dinner,” I say, blinking slowly up at him. “And maybe after, you can teach me about dessert.” 


End file.
